


Chandler & Monica

by CateBeLate



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: College AU, Comforting the Sick, F/M, Hints at Romanogers, idk what else to tag, typical fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CateBeLate/pseuds/CateBeLate
Summary: Wanda has a cold, but she's definitely convinced she's dying. Even when her friend, Bucky, comes by to help her out, she still thinks she's dying. Good thing he's there to make soup for her and watch Friends with.





	Chandler & Monica

The noise coming from the living room didn’t sound like it was coming from a human. If James had to be perfectly honest, he’d admit that there was a chance a dying goat was in the living room. While he’d say that to anyone who asked, he wouldn’t say it to the person who was making such a noise, if only because there was a fear she’d scratch out his eyes while he slept. His Ma raised him better than to say rude things to pretty girls, anyways. Sadly, that couldn’t be said for the rest of their friend circle.

Natalia, who lived with Wanda, opted to stay “innocently” in the Barnes / Rogers / Wilson bachelor pad. Steve and Sam both protested helping with excuses bordering pathetic, citing an important exam two days from now, or a blind date. Whatever. It wasn’t as if Buck wasn’t clueless when it came to taking care of others - a childhood friend of Steve “contract everything under the sun” Rogers with a nurse mother tended to educate - so this could be easy. It was just a head cold. He’d been under the impression that stereotypically, women weren’t as pitiful as men when it came to any kind of illness, but wow, he was mistaken.

Wanda was absolutely pitiful as she remained hidden beneath three blankets, only able to see the television through a hole she made … somewhere in the pile. It was cute. James could admit that much. It was pretty cute.

Maybe that’s why he’d offer to help her out. The other excuses were to pacify the curious few who figured James had ulterior motives. It wasn’t at all like that. While he could further admit that when Wanda was in good health, she was absolutely drop dead gorgeous, he knew when a girl was out of his league. Smart, funny, legs for days - they were all his weaknesses, bundled up in one Romany woman.

She wore red fairly often, and he couldn’t help but notice. He found it was his favorite color recently, though it wasn’t something he’d tell anyone for fear of brutal teasing.

“Wandz,” he started as he sat down next to the sentient blanket burrito, setting the two bowls of chicken noodle soup before them. “I know you’re awake.”

All he got in a reply was a sniff, muffled from deep within the cocoon. All the boy could think of was how adorable that was. Quick on the heels of that thought was a very blatant one: she’s going to be the death of him one day, whether she knew it or not.

“Come on, hun. You gotta sit up and eat some soup. It’ll help you feel better.” He couldn’t help but wince as the dying goat noises started up again. “I know, I know. You don’t feel well. I know. But you need to eat something. And probably drink your tea.” He looked over at the mug with a subtle frown. “You really haven’t moved, have you?”

“No.” There was finally an actual reply from her, and if the odd noises didn’t make him feel pity for her before, actually hearing her voice like that pulled at every single heartstring he had. “I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying, babe.” These terms of endearment had really been slipping off his tongue more than just recently. It felt all too natural to refer to her as something more than just who she was. To him, she was ( at the risk of sounding absolutely cliche ) everything. Besides, she didn’t seem to mind being called something other than her name. In fact, James was pretty sure he saw her smile a bit wider when he did. He hoped there was a smile under those blankets. “Come on. Sit up. You can lean on me.”

That seemed to work as the huge blanket worm began to move. And just like he promised, she was able to lean on him, but he was still a bit bewildered as to how she was going to eat still wrapped up in fleece and down. So, he took it upon himself to basically unwrap the top part of the mess, revealing a very sick, very disheveled Wanda who still made him look at her a bit too long. Even with her curls messy, even with her nose stuffy, even with her smile pouty - he still stared at her like she was nothing but pure sunshine.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty.” Was he laying it on too thick? Probably, but considering how down she was about being sick, she might need it. “Or afternoon. I’m pretty sure you’ve slept for two days straight.”

“I’m dying, Bucky.” The way she said his lifelong nickname sounded more like “Booky”, and he wasn’t about to make her stop saying that. Instead, he gave her a very sympathetic smile and put an arm around her. Wanda immediately put her head on his shoulder, not caring if any hair went in his face. He wouldn’t complain. He never did. “I’m dying at the tender age of 23.”

“How many times do I have to tell you you’re not dying? Come on. This is Ma’s recipe. It’ll warm you up. You need food.” Reaching out, he took the bowl off the coffee table and held it out for her. Thank god she was receptive, finding a way to get both her hands out of the blankets to hold the bowl on her own. “Theeere you go.”

For a bit, they sat in silence with only the dialogue of ‘Friends’ sifting through between them. In order for Buck to eat, he had to actually pry his arm off Wanda, which was just saddening in his mind. When else would he be able to do that?

“I think I’m Monica.” It was an abrupt distraction from the show, which was fully exploring the neurosis that enveloped the arguably smallest of the Friends cast. It was enough to make James shake his head.

“If anyone, you’re like … Phoebe. Easily a Rachel.” Maybe he was laying it on too thick, but compliments were good for the heart when she was, as she claimed, dying.

“No, no. Definitely Monica. I’m annoying and bossy and controlling.” Just when he thought she couldn’t sound any more pitiful, she went and sniffled while looking down at her bowl of soup.

“If you’re Monica, I’m definitely Chandler. You can’t change my mind.” To be fair, Buck had always thought he related far more to Chandler while everyone thought he was a full-blooded Joey. But the truth got her to smile a bit - just a little lopsided as she brought her eyes up to him. Honey colored eyes looked as glazed as a Krispy Kreme donut, and that was when he figured it was probably time to get her some NyQuil.

“You’re Mister Bing? I always thought Joey for sure.” Wanda actually sounded lucid, which made him feel better about how she was doing.

“Everyone does, babe. I like to let them think I’m all about ladies and food, but … I don’t know. I feel more like that guy. And no, my dad wasn’t a drag queen.” That was enough to make her hum a chuckle, which made the center of his chest warm.

“You’re my Chandler,” she murmured, looking back at the television.

“And you’re definitely my Monica,” he stated, very matter of factly.


End file.
